In the Arms of the Sun
by PlasmUser
Summary: In the village of Apakto, another year has gone by, and without fail a new sacrifice must be made. However, what happens when the sun god grants mercy to his sacrifice? (I am stupidly bad at writing these summaries halp.)
1. Chapter 1

AN: Howdy Guys. I know I should really be working on the Aphrodite and Hephaestus fanfiction, but you know. It is what it is. *shrugs* This is something I started last year that goes hand and hand with the Aphrodite one so it's pretty close right? Just don't shoot me, please! *clasps hands together* please tell me what you think. I'll be posting a few more chapters of both stories in the nearby future. See you guys soon1

Clouds rumbled in the distance as the lithe, dark haired boy was led to the altar in the center of the large quarry. Weary green eyes darted back and forth from the priests and altar workers to the sun god's shrine a mere hundred feet before them.

He had known that this day was coming, he just hadn't expected to be so soon. It wasn't easy for one to come to terms with their blood being sacrificed to the gods at the ripe age of 17. All his life he had been raised knowing that he was going to die. His parents had told him ten years ago that on his 17th birthday, he would be the sacrifice to the gods that would bring prosperity to their village.

Clenching his fists he struggled with the urge to tug at the restraints around his wrists and ankles. He wasn't ready to die...but this is what he had been raised for. It was the only way his people would survive the next harsh winter.

Raising his head once more he lifted one bare foot-which felt as if they were made of lead- he began to walk up the marble steps. The priest of the shrine lead him to an elevated dais where he proceeded to lay down, the soft fabric of his white robe doing little to prevent the cool sting of the stone slab.

Turning away from the boy, the priest raised his hands, gaining the attention of the crowd before him. Everyone from the village had come to watch the sacrifice, including the boy's parents, who were eagerly watching from the front of the group.

"Good people of Apakto! Yet another year has gone by and here we still stand. Each change of the seasons brings more benefits to our wonderful village, but this year by far was the best! Praise Zeus, who was the previous god chosen for us by the oracle!" Cheers erupted from the crowd and the priest paused for dramatic his hands once more, the priest observed as the crowd grew silent.

"Now, as many of you have heard, the chosen god for this upcoming year is Apollo. Knowing this, one can only assume that our sacrifice will reap many benefits in the following harvest season!" Applause and cheers filled the air once more. "Let the ceremony begin!"

The priest turned to face the boy again, drawing a long, ceremonial knife from the dull brown sash at his waist. Gripping it in both hands, he held the blade above the brunette's midsection.

"Do not worry, Aeneas, your death will not be in vain. Your people will thrive from your sacrifice." Raising the knife, the priest began to recite a short prayer, followed by the crowd.

Aeneas squeezed his eyes shut as the blade plunged down and golden light filled the quarry.

AN: The village in this story is obviously a fake one. The word Apakto is Greek for fake, and the name Aeneas means praising or to praise.


	2. Chapter 2

Zeus's loud and boisterous laughter filled the grand hall, much to the annoyance of the other gods who gazed upon the village of Apakto below them. The broad man leaned back in his extravagant throne of marble and cloud, leaning towards the golden and light throne of Apollo.

"Looks like you're the lucky guy this year, eh Apollo?" Nudging the younger god with his elbow, the white haired god leaned forward once more, lightning blue eyes filled with joy and laughter.

The golden god let out a soft chuckle, filling the room with its warm and pleasant noise that was not unlike wind chimes. "It would seem so father," he mused, his warm golden eyes returning to the ceremony before them.

His thoughts were soon interrupted when a soft voice filled every corner of his mind. 'I don't want to die…'

Taking quick glances around, Apollo brushed it off and tuned back into the contagious laughter of his father and the soft murmurs of the other gods. Each of them watched as the man, no, the boy, was led up to the dias, tied, bound, and gagged to be sure he would neither scream, or run.

"Hmmm. They've never offered us one this young before." Zeus murmured, oblivious to his wife shifting uncomfortably beside him.

Hera was never one for these events and more often than not she'd look away when the priest finally finished the deed. She took pity on most of the sacrifices, and thus was never chosen by the village. Today was different; Hera was not the only one to look away. Something about this boy though..many of the gods were shifting in their seats, avoiding the view before them.

'This is what you were raised for. There's no point in getting upset now. You knew you were going to die a long time ago.' The voice seemed to be right against Apollo's ear, causing chills to run down his spine. Jerking he turns his head to look over his shoulder, once more.

A firm yet familiar hand placed itself over his, slender fingers curling over his much thicker and broader ones. His golden gaze was quickly met with the harsh but caring silver gaze that belonged to his sister. Artemis may revel in the slaughtering of men but she knew when something was bothering her twin.

Leaning up in her chair, she moves towards him, pressing her soft, silver tinged lips against his ear. "You can hear him, can't you?" she whispered, pulling back to look up at him.

Golden eyes widened in response as his sister leans back in her chair, those silver eyes filled with knowing.

"We all heard them, before they die that is. I guess it's a way for them to gain closure, a way for us to comfort them as they are lost."

Apollo's head snapped back towards the ceremony, eyes falling on the boy the gods were watching through the large looking glass. The ceremony was beginning to come to a close, people chanting and praying as the priest turned towards the boy. Green eyes squeezed shut as the knife in the chosen priest's hands plunged towards his midsection.

'Please Apollo, make it be painless.' the voice wavered, fear finally taking over the confidence and pride that he once had.

The sun god felt something awaken inside of him at the plea, his power roaring to life. In a flash of golden light, Apollo was gone, leaving a very content Artemis behind with the other confused gods.


	3. Chapter 3

Exotic green eyes slid open, snapping closed almost as quickly, as they were assaulted by stunningly bright sunlight pouring in through the large gaps in the marble columns. Slowly sitting up, Aeneas pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids, rubbing the sleep out of them. Dropping his hands onto his lap, he took a moment to marvel at the interior of the room where he currently resided.

Squinting, he observed the intricate lines that were carved into the marble floor and ceiling, depicting the many feats of the Sun God, Apollo. 'Well,' he mused, 'at least I know where I am.' Thin, white curtains blew gently in the calm breeze, giving the room an almost magical air to it. Warm cotton sheets surrounded him on the large, canopied bed he was seated on. He marveled at their softness, running his hands across the fabric over and over: he had never felt anything this soft in his life.

Shaking his head, he focused on the problem at hand. He knew he was in a temple of the Sun God, but why was he here? Is this something that happened to the Chosen Ones, some sort of sick, final good bye from the deity they lost their lives for?

Looking around the room once more, he began to grow uneasy at the never ending questions in his mind. His fingers gripped the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. Did he displease the god somehow? Were his people going to suffer for his impurity? No one knew about that...but then again, it was hard to hide anything from a god wasn't it? Did Apollo find out about what happened and find him impure, too impure for the sacrifice...?

As panic began to fill his mind, he could hear the sound of footsteps resounding out in the hall, filling the room around him, which was odd, seeing as there was little for the sound to bounce off of. Turning his head, Aeneas was greeted with the sight of the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

The man stood at least three heads taller than Aeneas's father, who wasn't the smallest of men, and was almost twice as broad. Long golden hair fell past his shoulders, almost reaching the middle of his back. He was garbed in a simple orange shirt and grey trousers. The most stunning thing about him though, were his eyes. They were the most vivid grey, and filled with relief, shimmering warmly when they fell upon the boy.

"Oh thank the Fates that you're awake" his voice tinkled like wind chimes, calming the boy almost instantly. "I know humans have different reactions to coming in contact with the Gods, but sleeping for a week wasn't what I had expected."

Trying to clear the fog that was forming in his mind, Aeneas gazed at the man before him. "Where am I?" he asked, growing irritated at the quiver in his voice, "And who are you?"

"Oh, right...you must be pretty confused. Well...my name is-" coming to a pause, the man rubbed the back of his head, chuckling. "You can just call me Angelus, and you are in the temple of Apollo, on the cliff side above your village. The Sun God decided to grant mercy on you, and let you live so you could work here."

A look of disbelief grew on the boy's face, followed by an irritated frown. "Well, that was awfully presumptuous of him." Stifling a snort of surprise, Angelus stared wide eyed at the boy.

"Wh-What makes you say that? He just saved your life? How does that make him presumptuous?"

Leaning back against the headboard, Aeneas folding his hands in his lap. "I was raised to die for the gods. Every year, my parents prayed, happy that my time was coming closer and closer. Thy couldn't wait for their home to be honored with my death. Apollo didn't take pity on me. He just didn't want to get blood on his hands."

Turning to look away from the baffled man, the boy's emerald eyes fell on the mountain in the distance that marked the entrance to the home of of the gods.

"Wait! Aeneas...he really did save you. Not out of pity but-"

"What work will I be doing here?" the man was cut off by the question, signaling that Aeneas was finished with the conversation.

Pursing his lips, Angelus decided to let it go for now. He would have plenty of time to work out this problem later. "You'll be cleaning and accepting prayers and offerings to Apollo. You'll start first thing tomorrow morning."

Turning, Angelus briskly exited the room, questioning if Apollo had made the right decision.


End file.
